


Slow Hands

by useyourtelescope



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Comedy, Embarrassment, F/M, Masturbation, Regency, Smut, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29889963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourtelescope/pseuds/useyourtelescope
Summary: When Colin walks in on Penelope during a very private moment the only thing he can think to do is leave immediately. But the memory of what he saw will not leave him so easily.
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington
Comments: 12
Kudos: 232
Collections: Bridgerton Kinkmeme - Issue 01 - 2021





	Slow Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the prompt of "Colin walking in on Penelope masturbating", which I'm guessing was intended for a modern AU but I decided to write it in the period setting for kicks.  
> This is loosely set a few years after season one.

The house was quiet as Colin wandered in the dark through Aubrey Hall. 

He had not expected to visit the family country house so soon after returning to England from his latest travels, but when he had arrived to find his family packing to spend a week in the country with a select group of friends, it had been an easy decision to join them. For one thing, he had come back to London to see his family, which he couldn’t do if they went away without him, and for another, he didn’t want to face London’s Matchmaking Mamas without any friendly faces to turn to.

They had passed an entertaining week as well, culminating with a bout of dancing that evening, the penultimate night they were staying there. After the last dance, which he had danced with Penelope Featherington, they had continued their conversation about his travels in a corner of the room until he had been quietly beckoned away by Anthony. 

He hadn’t understood the serious look on his eldest brother’s face until Anthony had ushered him away from the rest of the party into the study, where an extremely drunk Benedict Bridgerton was sprawled, head down on Anthony’s desk. He hadn’t been able to decipher Benedict’s drunken mumblings, but Anthony had explained as they hefted him that while Colin had been away, Benedict had fallen in love with a mysterious woman who had a strange habit of disappearing for prolonged periods of time. Colin had wondered why, if it had been almost a week since he had last seen her, Benedict had felt driven to drink that evening, but Benedict was in no fit state to explain himself. By the time they had managed to manoeuvre Benedict up the stairs and into bed, the rest of the party seemed to have gone to bed as well. Colin had gone back with Anthony to his study for a drink, but it wasn’t very long before they decided to follow suit and head to bed themselves. 

This would have been an easy task except that Colin, being such a late addition to Kate's carefully drawn arrangements, was staying in quite another part of the house than he was accustomed to.

Although he did not have a candle, the moonlight was at least enough for Colin to make the long walk with certainty until he heard a woman’s voice cry out.

When no other sound immediately followed, Colin thought perhaps he had been mistaken by the wind outside, but after he had taken another step, he heard it again. 

It was a soft cry, more like an exclamation than a sob, and it was certainly a woman. 

Perhaps someone had fallen in the night and was calling out for help? He would have imagined a serious injury would elicit a louder call than that, but the heavy doors could be masking the sound.

He turned to stare at the door a few steps away from him and was trying to recall if he knew who was staying in that room when the cry sounded slightly louder this time and he distinctly recognised the voice as belonging to Penelope.

That was enough to settle his indecision—it wasn't exactly the thing to march into a ladies bedroom at night but if Penelope was in distress he couldn't just ignore it. 

He went to the door and tapped lightly to make sure. He heard nothing at first so he said, in a voice that he hoped was loud enough for her to hear without alerting the neighbouring rooms, “Penelope?” 

Her responding, “Yes,” was faint, but insistent.

“Pen, are you—”

“Colin!”

He opened the door at once, assuming from her interruption of his words and the note of haste in her voice that she was in urgent need of assistance, but as soon as he had taken a step into the room he halted immediately. 

Penelope had not fallen and hurt herself. In fact, she was lying very safely in bed—the only tangle she had found herself in was in her sheets, moved so that her right hand could reach in between her legs.

“Colin!” she exclaimed. This cry was more of a quiet, horrified gasp before she sat up abruptly, quickly pulling the sheet up to hide everything her disordered nightgown had revealed to him. 

“I—I—“ he stammered. “Forgive me,” he said, “I thought—“ But no explanation would come, all words leaving his mind at the sight of Penelope’s shocked face, her open mouth and heaving bosom. It did not matter that the latter was now covered by the sheet, for the sight was imprinted on his brain. 

For some reason he bowed before doing the only thing he could, which was leave, shutting the door quite firmly behind him and hastening to his own bed.

Not that he was able to get any sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw her lying there—loose red curls sprawled on the pillows, her nightgown pushed down on one side far enough to reveal her round breast. By morning he was convinced the sight of her taut rosy nipple would haunt him for the rest of his days and he stayed in his room until the latest he could possibly arrive for breakfast without making anyone think something was wrong—for Colin Bridgerton forgoing any meal altogether was the surest way to alert people that he was out of sorts.

He hoped by waiting he would have allowed Penelope to breakfast earlier and avoid him if she so wished, but he learnt that she had claimed a headache and breakfast had been sent up to her on a tray. Eloise seemed concerned since that was very unlike Penelope, but Colin didn't blame her for making such an out of character request. He would have been tempted to do the same except they never put enough food on those things and today certainly wasn't a morning to skimp on his meals. 

At least this way he could be satisfied in one department. 

In the years since Colin had first thought himself in love, he had gained a lot more experience with women. Not enough to rival Anthony’s reputation, but he was far from innocent and knew women could seek their own pleasure just as much as men.

But it was quite different to know that about women generally—about women he met on his travels abroad—than it was to know it about _Penelope Featherington_.

He had certainly thought Penelope pretty before—even those garishly yellow dresses her mother so often forced her to wear could not hide her sweet smile and bright eyes. The last time he had returned to London, there had been something different about her; he was not sure what exactly, whether it had been the way she styled her hair or the way she carried herself, but after he had left for his next trip he had found himself thinking about Penelope more. There had always been occasions when he had thought about her clever words, or how she might like a particular sight he stumbled across on his travels, but this time he had also thought about her pretty face and delicate hands on nights he had been alone in his bed. 

But he had always chastised himself afterwards for thinking of Penelope while he touched himself. Not only was she not the sort of lady one trifled with, but she was also an old friend and it felt wrong to think of her in a sexual way.

After that night, however, it seemed he could not think of her in any other way.

Understandably, she seemed to go out of her way to avoid him the following day, but she could not refuse to come down for dinner on their last day in Aubrey Hall without making people think she was seriously ill and she ran no such risk. Kate had kept more of an informal setting for their last meal, and Penelope clearly chose to sit as far as she could from where Colin was hovering. As they ate Colin tried to converse with those nearest him, but his eyes kept being drawn down the table to Penelope. 

When she giggled at something Eloise whispered to her, he couldn’t help but think of how the light tone of her laughter mirrored her soft moans the night before. When her hand curled around her glass, he recalled the image of it cupped around her breast. She had such small hands compared to the roundness of her bosom, she had not been able to hold it all—that wouldn’t be a problem for his hands.

“Colin, are you alright?” 

Colin nodded in response to Benedict’s inquiry even as he continued to choke on his food at his extremely inappropriate thought. 

Benedict raised an eyebrow and thumped him hard on the back, which at least stopped him choking even if it did raise a few eyebrows from all corners of the table.

“I’m fine,” he said, managing a brief smile for his mother’s benefit, before reaching for his glass and immediately downing the contents.

He retired early that night, hoping that leaving Aubrey Hall would help. But it soon transpired that having different residences was not enough for Colin’s peace of mind. 

After all, Penelope was not only Eloise’s closest friend, she was practically an addition to the family at this point, and she was a constant visitor to his mother’s house. Although he didn’t live there anymore, now taking his own bachelor’s lodgings whenever he came back to London, her designated extended family status should have been enough to remind himself of why he shouldn’t be thinking of Pen every night when he tried to sleep. 

Instead, when he went to see his mother and found Penelope taking tea with his family, he could think of nothing else. Oh, he managed to make polite conversation with her, and she with him, even if she did not meet his eyes, but when no one was looking at him—and much of the attention was on some strange tale Hyacinth was relating—he simply stared at the side of Penelope’s face and remembered how the moonlight had streamed down on it that night, giving her a goddess-like glow. She wore a red flower in her hair that afternoon, and he recalled how she had worn a yellow one when they had danced at Aubrey Hall mere hours before he had found her in bed. 

Did Penelope touch herself every night, or had she felt a particular need that evening that had made her do so?

“Colin, you will finish all the tea!” Eloise exclaimed, noticing his sudden gulping down of his cup, only to generously refill it immediately afterwards.

“I’m thirsty,” he mumbled, before piling his plate high with more biscuits, which now drew Hyacinth’s ire. “And hungry.” The tea had not helped erase that particular thought and he had to hope that biscuits would.

Penelope did not comment, but his sisters grumbled to their mother that she should have arranged for more tea and biscuits when Colin arrived. 

“I did,” Violet noted with a sigh before she rang for more.

Colin was more careful in the timing of his next visit, but it was to no avail. Although Hyacinth and Eloise’s guest that day was not Penelope but Miss Edwina Sharma, their mother soon returned with Francesca and new gowns that had been made for her debut season. This in itself was not concerning, until Francesca opened her boxes downstairs to show Edwina her dresses and Colin couldn't help but think the dusty pink one was exactly the same shade as Penelope's nipple.

At least his leaving the room directly hadn't raised any eyebrows, the ladies plainly assuming he hadn't wanted to hear them cooing over dresses. 

It was the last straw. If even the colour of a dress could drive him to distraction, space was not going to help. They would have to talk about it. 

He didn't want to upset Penelope any more than he must undoubtedly have done already by bursting upon her at so intimate a moment, but they could not avoid each other forever. And he didn't want to avoid her forever. He liked Penelope. And while she seemed to have inspired a sudden intense lust within him, he could put that to one side to clear the air and make things easy between them again. 

The conversation would be awkward certainly, but he thought it would be worth it if he could finally get a decent night’s sleep instead of dreaming only of her soft moans and luscious skin.

After a few deliberately casual questions to Eloise, he was able to learn when he might be able to expect to find her alone at home without being too obvious about it, and it was thankfully only two days later. 

He still mistimed his visit somewhat in his eagerness, arriving too early so that no one was home—however, he eventually thought this might have worked in his favour for when he expressed a willingness to wait for his hostess, he was shown into the drawing-room. At least this way Penelope could not refuse to see him. 

Of course, if Penelope returned flanked by her family that would have made things difficult, but thankfully in fifteen minutes, she entered the room alone to find Colin helping himself to the refreshments that had been brought for him. Her somewhat hesitant manner suggested she might have regretted their old butler’s familiarity with him, but though her smile was strained she did not avoid his eyes.

“Good morning, Colin. I am sorry, we were not expecting any visitors—I hope you have not been waiting long.”

He had risen to his feet eagerly when she entered and bowed in response to her greeting. “Morning, Pen,” he managed before realising he had not swallowed all of the cake he had been eating and coughed to clear his throat. This was not enough to dislodge the final piece, a hasty overly-large mouthful, so he coughed again and used his handkerchief to wipe the crumbs from his face.

It was somewhat embarrassing, but he was pleased when it made Penelope laugh. 

If all that was needed for things to be easy between them was for Colin to embarrass himself in front of Penelope, then he would gladly do it. Perhaps that would make her feel that they were on even footing somehow after what he had seen. 

Not that he thought she should feel embarrassed about what she had been doing, for it was perfectly natural. Indeed, the only way for them to truly be on an even footing was for her to find him in the same position.

His cheeks grew hot when a new image flashed into his mind: Penelope perched on the chair in his bedroom and watching as he wrapped a hand around his length, perhaps even instructing him—

Colin coughed again, even though he had swallowed the last of his cake.

Penelope gestured for him to sit back down, which he did gladly, now in need of the chair’s support after that too tantalising thought. 

Oblivious to his struggle, Penelope took a seat opposite him and said politely, “My mother will be very sorry to have missed you. I’m afraid the others are not expected home for some time.”

“I did not come to see your mother, Penelope.”

“Oh, I suppose you haven’t met my step-father yet for he could not join us in—” 

“Pen,” he interrupted. “I haven’t come to see them.” 

“No?” Before Colin could respond to this deliberately obtuse remark, she gestured to the tray and offered, “Oh, would you like any more cake?”

“No—” He paused after the immediate outburst because it was very tasty, but now wasn’t the time for distractions. “Not right now.”

“My, it must be serious,” she said, idly plucking at the folds of her dress, “if you don’t even want anything to eat.”

“ _Pen_. You must know why I am here.”

“Must I?” 

He did not answer, waiting until she finally looked up to meet his gaze again.

“I did not think we would speak of it,” she said finally in a quiet voice.

“We cannot ignore it forever.” 

“Can’t we?” she said, glancing out the window before looking at him again. “Given your exit that night, I rather thought that was your intention.”

Colin hung his head. “I did not know what else to do. But please let me say how truly sorry I am to have intruded on you at such a—such a private moment. I never dreamed that—” Colin paused for his poor choice of phrasing only served as a reminder that he had been dreaming of Pen in such a way almost constantly since that night. 

One would think, given how much he had been thinking of it, that he would have planned his words better. He tried again, "I didn't know that—I didn’t expect—“

“It’s alright,” she said, putting him out of his misery. “I never thought you entered on purpose.”

“I heard a noise and I thought— ” He sighed for there seemed no point in trying to explain how it had happened now. “I hope I have not offended you,” he said, meeting her eyes again so she could hopefully see he was genuine.

“Offended? No, of course not. We need say no more about it,” she said brightly, though her smile still seemed forced. 

Colin knew his own smile was certainly forced and they stared somewhat haplessly at one another until Penelope got to her feet and went to the window. He stared at her back while she started rearranging the flowers in one of the vases. 

He stood, thinking it might be best to take his leave. He had after all accomplished what he had planned to do, even if it didn’t feel like he had thought it would after. He hated how awkward they were when what he liked most about Penelope's company was how easy and natural he could be with her and he had ruined that by an ill-conceived attempt at heroism that he had managed to convince himself justified marching unannounced into a ladies bedroom late at night. 

Wait—he suddenly realised, blinking—but he hadn't done that. 

“You said my name,” he whispered. After the embarrassment of his interruption—and the way the vision of her body hadn’t left his mind—he had forgotten everything that had led to him walking into her room. But he had called—and she had _answered_. By name.

“What?” she said lightly, not turning.

“Penelope. You said my name,” he said slowly, but with growing confidence. 

She turned, a small frown marring her delicate face. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Not now—that night. You called out for me.”

“No,” her response was swift, but he could see how she had immediately tensed when he had clarified. 

“Penelope,” he said, his mouth turning dry as the pieces clicked into place, “were you thinking of me? “

The reddening of her face was all the answer he needed. 

“Really, Colin,” she said, looking away, “I thought we were going to drop the matter—“

“You thought about me while you touched yourself.”

“Colin, please!” she cried. But far from the needy cry of that evening, this was a sound of distress and she marched away from him with such haste that he only managed to take her hand and stop her from leaving when she had almost reached the door.

“Wait, Penelope!“

“Do not make fun of me—”

“Make fun? Pen, I would never.”

His honesty must have been apparent because she no longer seemed to be trying to leave. But she didn’t turn around either.

Her quiet words were delivered to the door, when she said, “You don't need to explain just how little you think of me.”

“How little?” Colin exclaimed, his brow creasing and he dropped her hand from shock. “Pen, I have thought of nothing but you since that night!” 

Her head turned sharply and she studied him carefully. 

“Why?” she asked in a quiet but curious voice.

Colin let out a heavy breath, staring down at her almost pleadingly. “Why do you think? You were like a dream—and I have dreamt of nothing else since.”

Her eyes widened in something like amazement. “But if you were not offended why did you leave like that?”

Colin practically choked both at the question and the suggestion that he could possibly have been offended. “What else could I have done?”

She raised an eyebrow and her look suddenly turned a bit more calculated; it was a Penelope he didn't see often enough, one that usually came out before she said something quite witty. However, no earlier barb had ever quite affected him as much as when she remarked, “Well, I would have thought the other option was quite obvious.”

Colin stared at her, open-mouthed for a long moment. Then, he said, “Pen, I have to kiss you now.”

“Very well.”

He frowned a little at her easy acceptance.“You don't understand.”

Her pretty lips turned down to match his frown. “I know what a kiss is, Colin.”

“Pen, if I kiss you, I will have to touch you and if I touch you, then I will want to touch you the way you were that night.”

Her cheeks coloured, but otherwise, she still looked remarkably composed. “Yes,” was all she said. 

“Yes?”

“I would like that. I—” She hesitated, but then took a breath and seemed to make up her mind before admitting, “I _was_ imagining it was you—that it was your hands—”

She didn't get any further before Colin had crowded her against the door and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

For one moment she stilled in his arms, but it wasn’t long before she melted beneath him and put her arms around his shoulders, holding him close to her as if she was worried he might run away.

“I have to touch you, Penelope,” he groaned, kissing his way down her neck and running his hands up and down her sides. Her skin felt so soft against his face, just as he had imagined it, and he longed to feel it under his palms.

“Yes, you said,” she replied, somewhat breathless, though there was a lilt of amusement in her voice.

“It is no laughing matter,” he chided, nipping at her collarbone.

“Is it not?” 

“Certainly not.”

She responded only with a little sigh when one of his wandering hands came up to squeeze her breast. But Colin grumbled for the top of the gown was too heavily embellished for him to fully enjoy the feeling.

The hand at her back began to loosen the ties of her dress, and he nudged the neckline down with his nose until her breasts were finally bare to him, just as gorgeous as he remembered. 

He had not realised he was staring until he heard Penelope utter “Colin?” in a slight, hesitating voice.

He kissed her at once to dispel any lingering doubts she might have, enjoying the feel of her soft form against him, though not enough to be completely distracted from his object. Even when he broke away from her lips Colin rested his forehead against hers, watching her carefully as he finally took one of her breasts into his hand.

“You’re so beautiful, Penelope.”

“Oh,” she replied in a pleased, but somewhat disbelieving voice. “Thank you.”

He grinned. “My pleasure.”

She closed her eyes as he brushed her nipple with his thumb, lifting his other hand so he could play with both breasts at once, touching them as he had been wanting to all week.

“What else did you think about?” he wondered.

“Wh—what?” she asked, clearly distracted. Her eyes were still closed and her lips were parted as she rested against the door. 

“After I left—what did you think about?”

“Oh, I—”

Noticing she seemed to tense, Colin lifted his gaze from her breasts, frowning at the change in expression on her face.

“I was too embarrassed to finish,” she admitted, with flushed cheeks which he found quite adorable considering she had not done so when her breasts had been bared to him. “I haven’t been able to touch myself since then.”

“Oh,” Colin realised. “Well, as it was all my fault, please allow me to assist you.”

He kissed her again, enjoying how much more insistent Pen’s kisses were this time, but soon had to pull away.

She had the most delightful frown on her face when he stopped her hands from pulling his shirt free from his trousers.

“I want to touch you too,” she pouted. 

“Later,” he assured her, already certain there would be a later. “Right now, I must atone for my terrible blunder.”

Penelope giggled, but her laughter died in her throat as soon as he dipped his head so his lips could close over her nipple. “Oh— _oh_.”

“Oh?” When she only managed a slight hum in response, he felt inordinately proud of himself for making Penelope at such a loss for words. “Good?” he prompted before sucking again.

Some of her curls tumbled down to her shoulders as she nodded vehemently. She lifted a hand to thread her fingers tightly through his hair, securing him in place. “Yes. It is so much… _more_ than I had imagined it.”

Now it was Colin who was at a loss for words, unable to consider Penelope Featherington thinking about such things and still maintain his balance.

He didn’t know how he managed to manoeuvre them over to the chaise, but it thankfully wasn’t far. 

As soon as he had her sitting down, Colin leant forward to bring one hand to her ankle, intending to slowly run his hand up her leg for he knew this would all be new to her, but Penelope was not content with his leisurely pace. She kicked off her flat shoes and hiked her skirts up impatiently, and Colin’s good intentions faltered at the sight of her bare legs so close to his clothed ones.

When Penelope shivered he realised it was from the cold rather than desire, so he quickly moved closer to cover her body with his. She held onto him tight, meeting his kisses with an eagerness that more than made up for her lack of skill.

“Colin, please.”

“Please what?” he whispered against her lips.

“Touch me.” 

And when she asked him so prettily, how could he refuse?

He ran his hand up and down her thigh once more before venturing to the juncture between her legs, groaning against her lips when he found she was already wet for him. 

“Oh, Colin,” she said in a soft, pleased voice and he loved that it was he who had made her sound like that.

As he kissed his way back down to her breasts, he could feel Pen’s hand on the back of his head moving to pull his cravat loose and travel under his shirt and down his back.

Her hand was cold against his skin and gave him a jolt, but he liked it and wanted to feel her hands roaming his chest.

Almost as if she could feel his momentary lapse of concentration, Penelope whined, drawing his attention back to where it was most needed. He couldn’t quite believe she was so wet for him so quickly, but remembering she had gone without since they had left Aubrey Hall he diligently worked on her, kissing and sucking on her breasts and circling his fingers around her centre until she fell apart in his arms, his name on her lips. 

He kissed her hair, keeping one arm tight around her back as Penelope slowly returned to herself, sighing into his collar. He adjusted his trousers against his prominent erection before moving his hand to run up and down her arm soothingly. He didn’t want to rush her but was now suddenly aware that he had completely forgotten their location in the drawing-room. As much as he adored the vision before him of a dishevelled Penelope, all at his hand, it was not a view either of them wanted anyone to walk in on.

“When will your family come home?” he asked.

Penelope blinked her eyes open and smiled at him, a smile of pure pleasure and happiness that he had never seen before. “Much later.”

“ _Much_ later, mmm?” he said, noting the deliberation in her words.

She nodded. “Much, much later,” she confirmed.

“Whatever shall we do until then?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. He dipped his head, intending to kiss her again when Penelope suddenly put out a hand to stop him and pushed him back to sit upright.

Before Colin could object, she had moved to straddle him and placed her hands on his chest. “I have plenty of ideas.”

Colin grinned as she started on his buttons, only too willing to be enlightened. 

**Author's Note:**

> And then they get married, since it is the Regency period after all, but that's a different fic.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @[useyourtelescope](https://useyourtelescope.tumblr.com/).


End file.
